Breaking Free
by TotalCelloDork42
Summary: Nightlock Everdeen, a refugee from Thirteen after it was bombed, is no stranger to the art of survival. Disowned by her parents at age ten and forced to fend for herself, she is all but accustomed to hardship. She does not believe her life could possibly get any worse. Until she is chosen as a tribute for the first-ever Hunger Games and her life begins to rapidly fall apart.


_Hello! This story originally started as a collaboration between me and WriterGalB before I had an account. You will, in fact, be able to find the prologue if you search WriterGalB and read Breaking Free. _

_Btw this is my first fic so... read, review __**say ur actual opinion when reviewing**_

_**CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS A GOOD THING!!**_

Ok. Wow. Way too much excitement.

* * *

**_Breaking Free_**

**_Part one: The_**

**_ Smoke_**

**Chapter One**

Sunlight streams in through the open window and for a second I bury my head under the rough wool blanket, attempting to block out the light. Then I remember. I promised Ash i would go hunting. Oh well. Sleep can wait. I prop myself up on one elbow. It is still early but you can barely tell, considering the amount of light pouring in through the window. My younger brother, Ash, fidgets in his sleep, almost falling off the bed. I reach down and stroke his head, calming him down almost instantly. It's odd how disturbed his sleep is. But then again, he's seen more than most. We both have.

I slide out from under the covers and plant my bare feet on the cool dirt floor. Very quietly, so as not to disturb my brother, I change into some trousers and an old shirt that used to be my mother's. I reach over to grab my hunting boots, but stop short as I realize how worn out they are, with holes scattered along the soles. There is absolutely no way I am going to be able to wear these. I shrug. Doesn't make a difference. I can always just go barefoot, it makes it easier not to scare the prey off anyway. I am just about to leave when a voice interrupts me.

"Night? You awake?" Says Ash groggily.

"Yeah," I reply, "I'm going hunting. Set the fire for me, okay?"

"Can't Mom or Dad do it?"

I groan. The last thing I need is for them to know I've been here. Speaking of which, I should take my blanket with me. Better hide the evidence.

"Ash," I say gently, "Can't let them know I've been here, remember?"

"Oh. Right" He mutters, and shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts. Once he's fully awake he should be fine. I make my way towards the door, grabbing my old, patched up hunting jacket. Long since worn beyond repair. I slip the soft leather over my shoulders and walk out through the door.

Outside, the rising sun shines in sharp contrast to its dank, dirty surroundings. Trying and failing to turn District 13 into someplace beautiful. It didn't used to be like this; years ago it was actually decent looking, beautiful even. There were trees everywhere, the big tall kind, with long branches that drop their leaves during autumn and flower in the spring. And there was this huge pond right on the edge of the district, filled with crystal clear water and all kinds of fish. Of course, that was before the rebellion.

13 has always been something of a nuclear powerhouse. We produce all the nuclear energy for Panem, and as far as I know didn't even consider weapons until the rebellion started. After it did we went into overdrive, producing more and more without a thought as to the consequences. The nuclear fallout completely wrecked 13. Everything just died off and accidents in the plants became more and more frequent.

I used to work in one of the plants, the same one my parents did. I actually enjoyed it. The logic of it just made sense to me. But I think that's one of the ways Thirteen lures you in. They say some that makes perfect, logical sense. Not enough to intimidate, but just enough to draw people over to our side.

That's what happened to my parents. They used to listen to all the political speeches and go to all the public rallies, always one of the first to share their optinion. When the war began, they were in charge of one of the nuclear power plants. It was the first factory to begin producing nuclear weapons. They gave me a job in the factory when I was ten. I didn't agree with their ideals, didn't think it was right to just nuke everyone who disagreed with us. So, being the perfect idiots they are, they disowned me.

I left and went to live in the forest surrounding Thirteen. I found an old wooden cabin about halfway between here and twelve, with an ancient railroad track running from Thirteen to Twelve. I still visit Ash pretty often and bring him fresh meat.

I'm actually a decent hunter and a fair shot, a skill I never realised until I started living on my own. Even if I had wanted to before then, I don't think I could have. Everything surrounding Thirteen is dead, killed by radioactive waste from the plants, so I have to hunt over near Twelve if I want to actually shoot anything that, you know, isn't already dead.

It takes me a good solid hour to reach anything that looks remotely like a place that is actually capable of harboring life, and another half hour to reach a place where there actually is life. It would have taken me a hell of a lot longer if I hadn't found a little handcart on the track that runs towards Twelve. Thank God for whoever put that thing there in the first place.

I jump down onto the ground and walk over to a large fallen tree. Just as I reach for the bow and arrows nestled inside, I hear a soft pop. I look back.

District Thirteen is no longer there.

In its place is a bonfire.


End file.
